


The Walk

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Fluff, Mystrade Prompt Challenge, Mystrade is our Division FB Prompts, Romantic Fluff, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-30 00:32:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16754440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Mycroft hasa dayand Anthea knows what he needs.





	The Walk

Mycroft walked along the pavement indulging himself in the beautiful crisp autumn afternoon. There was a tree-lined block that Mycroft liked to walk through on his way his preferred café when he absolutely needed a change of scenery from the office.

Like now.

It started three days ago. He and Gregory had an argument. An argument that never would have happened had he not been so tired, but he was and it did happen. He made the situation worse when instead of coming to bed and working it out he locked himself in his office under the guise of doing the one thing he should not have been doing – the very thing they were arguing about – his insane working hours for the past month. At 3:41am ereyesterday morning when the Prime Minister called with an international intrigue, he used it as the reason to get out of the house barely leaving Gregory a note as he left. The past two days have been nothing but back-to-back meetings, talks and negotiations and a yelling match.

That is what did it.

Mycroft _yelled_.

A foreign dignitary threw a hissy-fit. There was no other word for it. Mycroft had seriously wondered how the man ever managed to gain his lofty position when his string of waning patience finally snapped.  He did not just change the tone of his voice. He did not just raise his voice. Mycroft Holmes lifted his head, turned it to the man and actually yelled at him to sit down and shut up.

A pall hung over the conference table as Lady Smallwood and Sir Edward who were also in attendance sat there stunned. Once the dignitary had indeed shut up and sat down, the discussion continued with everyone satisfied with the compromises agreed upon. Some sixty hours after that initial call and five since he yelled, with the crisis now settled, Mycroft absolutely needed out of the confines of Whitechapel. He texted Anthea he was going indulge himself in fresh air and coffee and would be back in an hour.

Glad to be out of the building he really had not paid much notice to the foliage until the crunching of dried leaves underfoot garnered his attention. A week ago, the block was awash in the vibrant hues of fall. The trees abundant with scarlet and gilded coinage that hung from burnt sienna branches and dark cocoa trunks.

After two days of torrential rain, today it seemed it was gnarled gray fingers that clawed at pink cloud-dotted cerulean skies, desperate to hold on to their remaining gold and ruby jewels in the ever-shortening daylight of mid-autumn. Placing one foot decidedly in front of the other, his ever-present umbrella idly twirling, Mycroft watched as one such topaz jewel lazily drifted to its final resting place upon the concrete.

It felt as if watching a tear fall.

He found himself internally smiling at the mental flight of fancy. Autumnal leaves, vernal blooms, summer warmth and winter snow. Observance of the beauty of the seasonal markers were things he so rarely indulged in beyond idly noting the passage of time. It is something he never indulged before Gregory. There are so many simple pleasures in life that he never indulged in before Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade became the Iceman’s absolute favorite indulgence.

They both dealt with intrigues and crime and death, but where Mycroft lived his life in preparation and preferably prevention of the other shoe to drop, somehow Gregory lived his for if the shoe does fall. Still, he kept his faith in the good of humanity overall. The man brought color to his life in more ways than one and Mycroft thanked the universe each day for its graciousness and indulgence in providing such a man for him.

He squatted and picked up the perfectly formed leaf. He knows he would not have noticed the leaf were it not for Gregory. Mycroft no longer wanted to go back to the office. He wanted Gregory. He wanted nothing more than to find Gregory, apologize and hope the man could forgive him.

Mycroft’s mobile buzzed interrupting his thoughts. He started to ignore it, but he realized it was Gregory’s specific buzz pattern. He took out his mobile and opened the downloading image. It was a photo of himself walking down a street through autumn leaves.

The very autumn leaves and street he walked at that moment.

Mycroft’s head whipped to the correct angle such a picture would have been taken and found himself staring into the worried eyes of his favorite indulgence.

Mycroft’s internal smile became an external one as Gregory nodded at him from in front of the café across the street. A beam of waning sunlight seemed to find the man just then and bathed his rugged form in light, glinting off the silver spikes of his hair. Mycroft did not have to ask how he knew to be there.

Of course, Anthea contacted Gregory after his outburst.

Of course, Gregory knew Mycroft would head for the café.

Apologies were falling from his lips before his feet reached the kerb of the pavement. Apologies silenced by Gregory’s kiss.

Mycroft left himself a mental reminder to give Anthea yet another raise as he texted her go home and that he would see her overmorrow. Gregory beamed when he saw Mycroft shut his mobile off and drop it in his coat pocket. The detective inspector then took Mycroft’s hand and together they enjoyed the London streets.


End file.
